Just Another Typical Conversation Among Partners
by bluespiritgal
Summary: One shot conversation/banter among partners while looking for a suspect. General/Humor. Probably K but rated K to be on the safe side . My first Starsky & Hutch fanfic. Feedback appreciated.


A long time fan of Starsky & Hutch, I've enjoyed reading all the great fan-fics written, though I mostly steer towards general non-slash stories that stay pretty close to canon and really show that special friendship that exists between the two best buddies and partners.

I especially liked some of the original drama and angst stories, S&H early days at the Academy and the SR and ACFS follow-up stories, but it's also just a lot of fun to read some cute humorous snippits between the two partners.

This is my first attempt at a S&H fanfictition. It's a general one-shot banter/conversation while on their beat looking up a lead. Sorry to say I don't own the guys and no infringement intended - just fun entertainment.

**Just Another Conversation Among Partners**

**by BSG**

With a Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand and trying to balance a small folder across his knee, Starsky shifted his weight in the passenger seat of the LTD attempting to get into a more comfortable position against the worn leather seat.

His back, still stiff from a two night stakeout, wasn't at the moment appreciating the lumpy springs of his partner's crap heap at the moment and after only a few hours on patrol he'd wished they had taken the Torino instead.

In contrast his partner behind the wheel was in a decidedly happier mood. Humming to some song silently playing in his head, Hutch tapped his thumb on the wheel as he weaved through the downtown traffic of their beat, occasionally glancing over at his silent surly partner with a grin.

It was clear Starsky was definitely not in his "happy place" yet.

Just wanting to be left alone in his little grumpy cocoon for a while the brunet deliberately tried to ignore that sappy "blonde" grin and instead pulled the polarized lenses down on the bridge of his nose and concentrated on reading the rap sheet on a fence named Polly-Boy they had been trying to find all week.

He took a sip of his coffee, making a face at the bitter taste, but drank it anyways. It needed more cream and sugar the brunet had decided after the first few sips, but Hutch had refused to go back to the roach coach he'd bought it from by the time he'd realized it.

Starsky's stomach grumbled and a thought suddenly came to him. Shoving the rap sheet between his teeth for a moment, he one-handedly sifted through the small stack of papers looking for the set of notes he'd taken before on some of Polly-Boy's former associates.

It was then the LTD hit a nice size pot hole and the coffee splattered all over the brunet's shirt, jeans and the papers in his lap which he tried to catch before they slid to the floor.

Starsky's muffled exclamation elicited a set of raised apologetic blonde eyebrows and a, "Sorry pal."

He took the rap sheet out of his mouth and glared at his partner with that "face" – eyes wide open, eyebrows up, mouth slightly open in stunned annoyance.

"I just washed these this weekend."

The blonde eyebrows rose boyishly. "Really?"

Starsky's own darker ones drew downward at the insinuation.

The LTD hit another patch of torn up asphalt and rattled with its crappy suspension causing a repeat performance.

"HEY! Watch the road will ya!"

Hutch chuckled under his breath and apologized again.

Seeing no sincere regret in his partner's eyes while coffee dripped off his hand and was now seeping uncomfortably down the crotch of his jeans, Starsky glared back.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," he muttered searching for something to mop up the mess.

Hutch held up a waded up napkin he found wedged between the seats with a helpful smile.

The brunet grabbed it out of his hand and tried to dap up the mess. The blonde continued with amusement in his voice. "Uh…you dropped something, buddy," indicating the papers that had slid onto the floorboard.

"Really?" Starsky replied dryly to the pale blue eyes twinkling.

Awkwardly reaching down and retrieving the papers, Starsky grimaced as his back protested to the pretzel movement, then straightened back up with a groan.

"Back still stiff?" Hutch asked.

"No kidding, Sherlock. You know, you should be a detective."

"Funny."

"Ha, ha. Listen, next time we have to stake out that warehouse, _partner_, you get the honor of wedging yourself up on that scaffolding and doing look out all night through the window and I'll take the cushy back office on the ground floor."

"It wasn't really _that _comfortable, Starsk. The leather chair was kind of lumpy and the chair squeaked a lot. I could hardly catch two winks."

Starsky's threw his partner a seething look before shoving the sunglasses back up his face, not amused. He turned his head away scanning their beat.

Hutch continued to grin, enjoying the banter. Okay, so it was a little one-sided, and he knew he should probably ease up, but it was just so dang fun sometimes to mess with his partner, knowing just what buttons to push.

He then began whistling a merry little sappy love tune in the silence that followed which he knew was beginning to get on Starsky's nerves, but after a few minutes of still being stoically ignored, he finally said. "Come on, Starsk. Ask me."

"Ask you what?" Starsky said humorlessly, refusing to turn his head from scanning the streets.

"Ask me why I'm feeling so happy today."

"Do I have to?"

"Come on. You know I know you want to."

The brunet's eyebrows continued to be set in a downward tilt. "Is it because you took a double dose of your decimated liver milk shake this morning?"

"No."

"There was a two for one sale on tofu burgers at the health food store?"

"No. Come on. Ask me."

Starsky sighed irritably turning his head slightly towards his partner and pulling down the lenses of his glasses just enough for his partner to see the flash of blue eyes. "Okay. Why _are _you feeling so happy at my expense today, pal?"

Hutch smile broadened, suddenly reminding Starsky a little boy who gotten his first peak at a Playboy magazine.

"Allison Lamont."

"Who's Allison Lamont?" came the dry, bored reply.

"You know," Hutch replied excitedly. "That gorgeous blonde we met at Sergeant Atkins' birthday party last week. After some persuasion, I finally managed to swing a date with her. We're going out Friday night."

"Terrific," he replied flatly. Then with almost an afterthought Starsky added. "But wasn't Allison the red head with the legs?"

"No, that's Alicia."

"Alicia? No. Alicia was the cute brunet with all the charm bracelets."

"No, that was Alex." Hutch corrected.

Starsky frowned "Alex? Are you sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure. I remember because she showed us one of her charms with her name on it. Thought it was cute."

Starsky sighed. "No wonder," he mumbled.

"No wonder what?"

He looked back out the window. "Nothing, forget it."

Hutch glanced over. "Come on. Tell me."

Starsky shifted uncomfortably and shrugged his shoulder a bit. "I asked her to dance and told her how hot I thought she was. I thought we were hitting it off pretty good at first but then I couldn't understand why she kept giving me the cold shoulder the rest of the evening. I kept calling her Alicia."

Hutch caught his laugh in his throat.

Starsky glared at his partner. "It's not funny! She was a really nice chick. Allison, Alicia, Alex….I guess I just got all the names confused."

"Sorry buddy."

"Yeah, me too."

Hutch sensed Starsky's bad mood quickly returning and decided to change the subject. "So you find anything in that stack of stuff that can help us track down Polly-Boy?"

Starsky looked down at the stained papers, some of his notes now smudged. "Not really, but right before I was so rudely doused with my coffee, my stomach was grumbling and I realized I was hungry."

"Not surprising, Starsk, but it's only eleven-thirty. Still a little too early for lunch."

"Not that dummy!'

They drove by an outside fast food joint and Starsky turned his head as they passed it. "Although, come to think of it, a chilly dog does sound pretty good right about now."

"Is there a point to this conversation somewhere above your stomach, Gordo?"

Starksy looked back at his partner. "Oh, yeah. Well when my stomach grumbled, it was then I remembered Polly had once dealt with a pigeon who worked part-time down by the docks….I can't remember his name but it has something to do with hot dogs."

"Hot dogs?"

"Yeah."

"Okay…." Hutch waited, but Starsky remained silent. "And???"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." He then snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Frank. Frank Beans!"

"Beans?"

"Yeah…you remember, that short pudgy guy with the fat nose and pitted face that looked like meatloaf gone bad."

Hutch laughed at the food description. "Oh yeah, I remember him. But isn't he still in the slammer?"

"Doing at least fifteen, but he had a brother with an equally funny name…stringy guy…." He closed his eyes, concentrating. "Ummm….ummm…ummm….Waxel!"

"Waxel?" Hutch grinned. "Waxel Beans? You gotta be kidding."

Starsky nodded his head. "Hey I didn't name him. Anyway, if memory serves right, Waxel once worked as a locksmith for a security company."

"A locksmith, you say?"

Starsky nodded again.

"Interesting. And you're thinking he may somehow be involved with the heist of all that electronic equipment that left those two security guards dead?"

Starsky shrugged. "Well somehow those guys got into that warehouse passed all that security and snuck up on those two guards. And we know Polly-Boy already tried to fence some of it before he got antsy and went underground. I say it's at least worth a check out, don't you think?"

"Suppose so." Hutch agreed, then chuckled.

"What?"

"Well, just leave it to your stomach to give us a new lead."

Starsky looked at his partner. "I'm not sure if that's meant to be a compliment or an insult, but how about some lunch anyway?"

"It's too early to eat."

"But I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"Come on! Please!" the brunet whined.

"All right, all right, just don't whine."

Starsky smiled, his grumpy mood of earlier suddenly lifting as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Great! Because it's my turn to pick this time."

Hutch groaned, feeling his stomach already churning and now wishing he'd kinda left his previously surly partner alone. "All right, but no chilly dogs!"

"What's wrong with chilly cheese dogs?"

"What _isn't_ wrong with them!"

"I don't know why you complain about them. They contain all four basic food groups: meat, bread, cheese and veges."

"Veges?"

"Yeah, I mean after you add the onions and jalapenos."

"Starsk, that's just sick!"

"Better than that crappy tuna mushroom melt on birdseed you made me eat yesterday."

"I'm still not going to eat a chilly dog! Do you know how many perservatives, fillers and dyes they use in those things?"

"It's called _flavoring_, Hutch. Something you have never grasped a true appreciation for."

"You're impossible."

"Fine!" Starsky grumbled. "I think of something else."

Their usual junk food vs. health food banter was interrupted by the crackle of the dispatch radio. "Zebra-Three. Zebra-Three. Come in."

Starksy grabbed the mike. "Zebra-Three, here."

"A Two-Eleven in progress at Papa Joe's Philly Steak Shack on Fifth and Lexington."

"Roger. Zebra-Three responding."

It was Hutch's turn to frown as he saw the sideways grin appear on his partner's face.

From underneath the seat, Starsky grabbed the police flasher and slapped it on the roof, while Hutch flipped on the siren and made a U-turn.

"Don't worry pal," Starsky assured. "Like always, I've got you covered."

He pulled out his beretta. Then with a twinkle in his eyes, from his shirt pocket, he pulled out a pack of Rolaids.

**The End**


End file.
